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Where in her head…..?

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There is nothing like being in the room when a live boxing match is taking place. Tonight, I saw in the flesh my first pro boxing fights. I must say, I wasn’t disappointed.

The events took place at the Bowness Community Center in Calgary, Alberta. The night started with some amateur bouts. Gwyn Lewis represented Bowmount Boxing in true Gwyn fashion…with a win. Coach Jesse Bartlett of Legacy Boxing was very enthusiastic having his fighters stepping into the ring from the blue corner and stepping out of the ring victorious. The amateur fights did what they were supposed to do. They entertained the audience, and they got us warmed up for the professional fights.

The closer it got to the NCC Title Fight between Albert Onolonuse and Michael Walchuk, the warmer it became in the room. The atmosphere was thick with the heat from a packed room, and the excitement of crowd. By the time Coach Doug Harder let his camo clad team to the ring, I absolutely couldn’t sit still. I became absorbed in everything that was happening, and I became the loudest girl in the room. As Albert was stepping through the ropes, I was giving my husband a play by play. ” Wait til he takes his shirt off, you won’t believe how well conditioned he is.” And from where I was sitting, he was the best conditioned, most prepared fighter of the two. Albert presented calm, cool, collected, and confident. He already knew he didn’t have a thing to worry about. The fight was nothing short of art. Onolonuse was focused and never rattled. If it were a game of poker, he had the royal flush the whole time, and his face gave nothing away. It was amazing how Onolonuse broke through Walchuk’s guard at will, keeping the pressure on Walchuck however never appearing pressured himself. Onolonuse seems to have the ability to dodge punches before the crowd even see’s them coming, and counter, sending his opponents head back so fast the crowd barely see’s his attempt. Onolonuse put Walchuck’s through 10 rounds of punishment, and kept his cool the entire time. There was a loud gent in the audience who kept yelling to Walchuck ” you got him now, you got him rattled”. To which my response was ” Are we watching the same fight?” There was no rattling Onolonuse. It never happened. The Walchuck fan was evidently delusional . Often throughout many rounds, Albert seemed to beckon Walchuck to hit him. Almost as if taunting him. But cool and together the same time. He never lost his composure. And by not losing his composure Albert was able to take points, and keep his points, which in the end earned him the NCC Middle Weight Championship belt. And even though it probably doesn’t matter much, he won my respect as a boxer. I’ve heard boxing referred to as a beautiful science. That being said, If I were Albert, I would change my name from “The Punisher” to “The Scientist”. Well done Sir. A evening I shall never forget.

Its two am. A little girl wakes up from a nightmare, terrified, cold and shaking. She rolls herself out of bed, and tip toes across the hall to her parents bedroom. Her Mama wraps her in her arms, and all the bad goes away. That easily. The child falls asleep. Let them be little.

In the morning, the nightmare forgotten, the little girl has her breakfast and goes outside to play. She takes a flip on her bike and comes home crying. Her Mama cleans the scrape, applies the band-aid and add’s a kiss. All better. Nothing to worry about. Mama took care of it. Let them be little.

At night, the little girl snuggles down in her fathers lap, and together they read a book. The child spits out facts about cats, different species and the kinds she wants to own and why. She goes over different medical conditions that can be problematic in different breeds. Siamese cats tend to be more timid. Maine Coon Cats get big. The child isn’t even aware she is making a decisions based on education and not impulse. She is growing. Her interest is growing. You want to nurture her interest. Watch it grow. You want her to learn who she is. Maybe the little girl will own a pet shop or become a veterinarian. But your going to be mindful. Your going to let her be little.

At age thirty one, I cannot imagine that I was ever little. I have however started making decisions in a better fashion. Become less impulsive. Become so much more aware of what is going on around me. Even more sensitive. I have two younger sisters who were born nine years after me. Both are half sisters. At their age I already had my first daughter, very pregnant with my second. That is almost embarrassing for me. Who in the hell told me I could become a mother at 21? For my sisters, I want so much more. I don’t want them to settle for what they have, I want them to get everything they want. I want them to travel, and learn of other cultures. I want them to be not only book smart but street smart. I wish for them to be experienced, strong women. I want babies and husbands to be the furthest thing from their minds. I want them to have easy lives. I want to keep them little.

I always want to keep my daughters little. Its been about a week since my family said good-bye to our long time pet and companion Tigera. She was a calico cat. Absolutely beautiful. My husband and I decided we thought the cat may have a urinary tract infection and I would take her to the vet the next day. It wasn’t until I was working and came upstairs to check on her that I found Tigera had peed on the floor. I cleaned her up and mopped up the mess. It was strange. In her whole life this had never happened. I decided my oldest daughter would never forgive me if I took the cat to the vet without her. I honestly didn’t think my youngest was a big fan, so I gave her the option. I went and picked them up about an hour before the appointment. I wanted the girls to spend some time with her. Just in case And they did. They brushed her. My oldest read her a story. They tucked her into her cat carrier, cat bed and all. And we drove the five minutes to the vet. Tigera was very calm in the car. Also very strange for her. Things didn’t go well at the vet. The vet told us she had kidney failure and he couldn’t give her any quality of life. I wanted the tests to be done. The vet said that Tigera was very sick, and he still had to sleep at night as well. He couldn’t advise keeping her alive. Test would be pointless. I said Ok, I’ll take her home. He said he would probably have to keep her over night on IV to bring her fluid levels back up, but we would come full circle very fast and be standing in that room having the same conversation in a matter of days if Tigera didn’t die having a seizure. He explained kidney failure is a very ugly death for a cat. My oldest looked at me and said ” Mama we have to let her go”. My oldest daughter was so much more brave than I was. She scratched behind Tigera’s ear while he put in the needle to sedate her. When I wanted to bail, she stayed with Tigera to the end. She even picked her up when it was over. She was very old for a ten year old girl. During this whole process she let me be little. She wasn’t being little at all. I feel like I failed her, even though the vet said he liked I allowed the girls to choose to be there or not. My husband said we were teaching them about pet ownership, the good parts and the bad. I badly want to keep her little.

It was this experience that brought me to the will kit section at Staples today. Everybody’s time comes. I wanted to get my wishes in writing. I know that those types of wills have no legal standing if something were to happen to my husband and I at the same time. That is not why I wanted it. I decided I want to make a living will of sorts. I want to get it in writing, what my final wishes are. I don’t want my husband or children to ever have to decide to pull the plug or not. And I would like my husband to do the same for the girls and I. It is a dreadful conversation but an important one. If the worst happens, the decision is already in writing and legally binding. Its certainly not a happy thought. Reality is shit really does happen. If it does, I want to cut my family that slack. I want them to be able to sleep at night. I want to let them to know I loved them enough to plan ahead, to let them be little.

I’m really starting to question human kind in general. A lot. On friday there was a caretaker yelling at an elderly lady for sitting in the chair next to the one he told her to sit in at the bank. It was horrible and I told him so. It was an abuse of power. It takes such a big man to verbally abuse little old ladies in public. I wonder how he treats her behind closed doors? This sweet lady probably worked her whole life to retire, and then pay for the care she needs, and he thought it was ok to treat her like she wasn’t an adult let alone human. Perhaps the lady had dementia and when her family looked into her eyes they saw a shadow of her former self. Maybe they were less bright now than they were before the man she spent fifty years building a lasting life and love with took his departure from this earth before her. Maybe it’s bitter sweet for her to welcome the growing list of grandchildren without him by her side . Or maybe she’s a nasty old spinster who never got married to begin with because she was bitter with the world and life and general and no one can stand her . Either way, the point is , the elderly came before us, and their wrinkles represent the storms weathered, the children they gained and lost, the life they once knew and the lives they now know. It’s not difficult to hold a door, or smile and say hello. Soon we will all blink our eyes and we will be there too. How do we want to be treated?

I remember that day almost two years ago
And you felt so heavy in my arms. My grief heavy in my heart.
You were born on the Fourth of July.
Gone the moment you entered the world.
You also died on the Fourth of July.
An occasion you share with your great grandfather before you.
That day was not an end of Avery but a beginning
A beginning of the grief her parents and sisters would share.
Mama cries still sometimes. It surprises her when the tears come.
Papa cries too. I’ve just never seen it done.
Now I’m over protective with your sisters
My two babies I have left
Not to leave the house without their cell phones.
I couldn’t bare it if one left.
Your second birthday is getting closer.
That means Mama and Papa fight more.
We love our baby girl so much
The one who will miss all of her milestones
We’ve put in many of your firsts without you
But those firsts, those are memory’s never made
But those are the only memories We have left.

At last its Friday night and I am snuggled down deep in my head. And my bed, but I’m digging in my head too. This is an exciting night for me. After months of nagging my husband, I finally located a hair on his head I haven’t turned grey yet and I threatened it. I threatened to yank it. Make him completely grey if he didn’t allow a new laptop to enter the threshold of our home. Through blood, sweat, tears and promises of things only I know help me get my own way, he crumbled like everything I’ve ever tried to bake. ( I’m horrible at remembering to set the timer when I’m baking or forgetting ingredients or I’ll get distracted texting with someone I absolutely haven’t texted with for at least 10 minutes. I have a 99.99 percent fail rate, and the 1 percent that isn’t is Pillsbury) And now I’m writing my blog for the first time on a shiny new laptop. The laptop I just absolutely couldn’t live without. Obviously with me having ADHD there are some things I cannot be in charge of. One of those things is more than a couple hundred bucks at a time. Otherwise there would be a lot more boxing gear, tech gadgets and boots in our house. I just had the funniest thought. If I were to require use of the facilities, they are just across the hall. My grandparents went to a bathroom in an outhouse. Even in the winter. They probably had red rings of frostbite on their bums if they slipped while hovering and I wanted a laptop so desperately because the typing on the touchscreen tablet was highly annoying for me and I absolutely couldn’t live like that any longer. It has become obvious the outhouse would have been a complete fail if I had to resort to that. Because a tablet was too much of a hassle for me. I have ADHD, I like to have things done in a hurry, and the processors on tablets are not fast enough for me and I cannot type as fast as I would like. I became obsessed over it and then I found that grey hair and here I am. So this morning I was all hyped up buying a laptop and then I brought it home, left it on a chair in the living room, didn’t even open the box for like six hours because I got distracted doing a ton of other stuff. Finally I got enough focus to fire it up. I played on it for two minutes, looked at my husband ” This set up process is taking forever, I have to get ice packs at Walmart”. So off to Walmart we went mid set up. On the laptop I absolutely had to have. It took me 12 hours to use it. But now at least I recognize it. I think my boot collection and technology collection and books, the books…..I need a rule. You know how they say you shouldn’t go grocery shopping on an empty stomach? Well I shouldn’t go shopping on an empty stomach or unless my ADHD meds have been in my system for at least two hours.

I see the family’s at the mall. The ones pushing a stroller with a bored toddler crying for attention. The parents don’t notice. They are to involved in their cell phones to notice, or at least be annoyed enough by the sound of their flesh and blood crying to bother themselves to comfort the child. And then your husband shows you the news and there is a story of a woman dumping three babies in a dumpster, the first two dying, the third being saved by a passer by who randomly happened to be the screaming infants father. And then there is Facebook. Everyone posting pictures of their big round bellies of great expectations. I envy their innocence. What they don’t think could possibly happen to them. At age twenty-nine I also had great expectations. Six pounds and one ounce of pure baby. Her name was Avery. She was a beautiful chubby baby with rosy cheeks and dark hair. She never took a breath outside my body, so to many people it greatly diminishes the value of her life and the grief that as her mother I feel. There is lots of eye rolling on my behalf. No one wants to talk about Avery. Avery is a dirty word. But I want to talk about her. I have memories. She lived her whole life inside of me. She was my Avery girl. I’m not stupid. I know that I cannot get her back. I know another baby won’t replace her. What my arms and my heart want with this nagging hell that is a cross between feeling hurt, and feeling sick right in the pit of my stomach is to try again. Respect that almost two years has been a good grieving point and push forward. But something is different now. I was diagnosed with ADHD at the age of Thirty. Now we have to slow down and look at this potential pregnancy differently. We have to take into account we dodged a major bullet that our two living daughters are not showing any symptoms of ADHD and if Avery had it, it died with her. What if we run out of luck on the ADHD wheel of fun and get a child that has ADHD. But what if I didn’t have ADHD and it was heart disease that ran in my family. Would I give it a second thought ? And would it be horrible if the child had ADHD? Am I so unloveable god forbid I have a child just like me? I am a productive member of society, I box, I’m active in my children’s school, I take very good care of my children. I stay on top of their commitments as well as my own. Without the stimulants and as a united front with my husband, to date we have raised two little girls who are smart, funny, excellent students, never get in trouble, never ask for anything unless we tell them we can . They are respectful of their teachers and their peers. And I did that before the diagnosis . So would I be burdening another child if it inherited my ADHD? It’s a tough call. I don’t think it isn’t a reason not move forward. I certainly have not gotten this baby ‘thing’ out of my head. I think a baby would bring a lot of happiness to our home . As far as the ADHD goes , maybe I would be the best mother for that child. One who is compassionate and understanding. Oh wait I already am that mother to my living children. And then there is a chance that the child would not inherit ADHD at all. But there are no guarantees’ in this life. My husband and I have certainly taken what life has grown at us this far, what’s one more time? We survived Mallory and seizures and Sydney the climber and delivering Avery, our child born an angel. We handled it all. And I have ADHD. I know we can do it all, as long as we do it together. And having another baby falling asleep on my chest, making little baby sounds, smelling like little baby’s do… I’ve done it before the diagnosis. As soon as I wear my husband down I will do it again .